


Have my heart, any place, any time

by elliceluella



Series: Epitome of a dream [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happily Ever After, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliceluella/pseuds/elliceluella
Summary: It’s happened before, the casual leaning, arms around waists and shoulders for periods of time that slink beyond friendly, beyond anything that can be downplayed with an easy quip, until the best option is to stay that way, hushed with cheeks slightly warm, chests almost bursting with fullness, feeling so right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A follow up to 'For the man who has everything' if you'd like the ~maximum feels~, but can be mostly read as a standalone.
> 
> A giant plate of biscuits with honey to Significantowl for helping me tidy this up! ♥

Matt knows the city like the back of his hand. Every nook, every cranny. It is his, and he, the city’s.

There’s something sweetly generous in the subdued, almost reverent manner that Matt chooses to share the hidden pockets of the city with Foggy, that these secrets, these places of solace, are now Foggy’s, too.

Today the one that Matt takes him to feels extra special.

It’s small, not quite a park, but well-kept and out of the way. Foggy remembers passing by the street that led to the winding path connecting to this little slice of quiet several times in the past; he’d just never thought there’d be anything at the other end and carried on walking.

Sunset at the tail end of fall is magical. The weather’s getting mellower by the day, rich golden hues that warm without making Foggy sweat. But if he was being honest, everything has been magical lately, because of Matt. Being here, being present in all the ways that matter to Foggy and so much more.

Matt says he can feel the warmth where the rays touch his skin and describes everything he senses around him, small satisfied grin on his face that blooms impossibly wide when Foggy describes everything he can see quietly. This quietness around them is too sacred for his voice to sully, no matter how much Matt says he likes it. Foggy stuffs his hands into his pockets after the itch in his fingers to lace them with Matt’s start to burn and tries his best to ignore that tiny twitch at the corner of Matt’s mouth.

They’ve been consistently getting better, Friday night dinner non-dates (a ‘test drive’ to gauge this thing that’s going on between them, now too present for either party to deny or ignore), more openness, more laughter.

They stay until there’s not a streak of orange left in the sky, until Foggy shivers from a breeze that lingers from his neck to back of his knees.

“Here,” Matt says as he unwinds his own scarf to wrap it around Foggy, who almost sways into Matt, into the warmth.

It’s happened before, the casual leaning, arms around waists and shoulders for periods of time that slink beyond friendly, beyond anything that can be downplayed with an easy quip, until the best option is to stay that way, hushed with cheeks slightly warm, chests almost bursting with fullness, feeling so right.

They end up walking back to Matt’s like two baby chicks huddled together, warm and inseparable, and Foggy doggedly attributes the pink in Matt’s cheeks to the cold while something deep inside shakes its head and laughs at him.

*

Matt asks Foggy to wait while he sets up dinner on his rooftop. He quickly nips Foggy’s offer of help in the bud with a fond laugh and says, “Here,” after picking up a glass of sparkling apple juice and handing it to Foggy.

“Come on up in fifteen minutes,” Matt calls over his shoulder, arms full with a huge picnic basket that he carries up the stairs to the roof access.

“Show-off,” Foggy mumbles, fondly. Matt’s chuckle fades as he reaches the top.

Foggy goes up five minutes early, just in time to see Matt on all fours, fluffing cushions and tugging the edges of the picnic mat neat.

“Five more minutes!” Matt squawks, embarrassed, cheeks slightly pink. It’s only entirely adorable.

Foggy grins. “What, and miss all this?” He laughs when Matt chucks a cushion at him.

*

It’s just another non-date, but this one makes something fizz low in his belly, nerves and something unnameable, makes him warm and cold at the same time. _Fever_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies, and fiendishly adds _of the heart_ in parentheses. Curse drama club and his incurable flair for dramatics.

It probably doesn’t help that Matt pulled out all the stops for this one, walking almost six blocks to that fancy deli for their dinner, bringing the type of wine they usually reserved after a good day at court or after Karen’s monthly column in the Bulletin causes a splash.

They make it through dinner with just enough conversation to plausibly deny tonight’s awkwardness and the overly polite nibbles they both took.

“Thought it'd be nice to do something different,” Matt’s voice, higher than usual, cuts through a lumpy silence after dessert. (“Ugh. Congratulations, you ruiner of chocolate cake. And wipe that smirk off your face, Matt. Now that I know what heaven tastes like I’ll never be satisfied with another slice.”)

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, smiling, and he’ll never get over how Matt can always tell because Matt returns it, shy but pleased, and nods.

“Well consider me successfully wined and dined, buddy.”

When Matt broadens his smile and says, “Good”, Foggy wonders if they’re both anticipating the same phantom thing he’s afraid to jinx by naming.

*

“Thank you,” Foggy says a little later, after the thing in his belly fizzles out and gets replaced by a sense of grounded contentment. There’s something about the way they’re leaning against each other, pinkies almost touching, that has Foggy thinking back to all the dinners and Daredevil planning they’ve shared over the past year and getting emotional about them. “I— I don’t think I ever said thank you for letting me in, for giving me another chance to understand you, to get to know you and not who I wanted you to be.”

Matt’s quiet for awhile, eyes cast down near where their hands are.

“I’m sorry I kept you out for as long as I did,” he says, softly, and turns towards Foggy. “It kills me that I never realized what it must be like for you until— until I was there in the hospital, all the waiting and wondering, not knowing what was happening out there, or whether...” His face does something as he tries to wrangle his emotions, vulnerable but determined, and Foggy’s breath hitches because, because.

There’s a faint smile on Matt’s lips before he takes Foggy’s hand in his, a warm grip gentle enough for Foggy to pull away if he wants to. Foggy doesn’t miss the fine tremble that runs through Matt’s fingers.

“Foggy, I. This past year has been the best I’ve ever had, and— however long I have, I want to make the most of what I have and spend it with you. If. If you’ll have me and— all the trouble that comes with it.” Matt’s bracing himself, like he’s got so much to lose and so much to prove.

“Matty,” Foggy whispers, and he wants to say more, use all the words he can to get across to Matt the truth that’s almost too big for his body, tell him that he doesn’t need to prove anything because Matt is it for him, but words don’t seem good enough. He grunts in exasperation and surges up and presses his lips to Matt’s, because the truth has always had a funny way of making itself known.

Matt gasps into the kiss but he gets with the program quick enough, the hand that held Foggy’s soon cupping his jaw, the other on his chest, right over his heart.

It's hot and earnest, it's _honest_ , and everything hums with a hushed, muted buzzing around them. Foggy’s blood sings as his heart beats and beats, his skin under Matt’s palm burning, and even though he's never been one for letting his instinct lead his actions (that has always been Matt) he gives in to that deep pull within and lets Matt know exactly what this— what Matt— means to him.

“You’re never getting rid of me, Murdock,” Foggy says after they part, panting but so lit up on the inside. Matt must feel it too, because he leans forward for another kiss, this one sweet and slow enough that Foggy feels the exact moment when Matt’s lips slide into a smile.

“I love you,” Matt says in a rush, shy but joyful and Foggy’s face grows hot.

He sucks in a breath now that the phantom anticipation has a name, now that Matt’s made the last part of Foggy’s ancient dream (had it only been a year ago?) real.

“I love you,” Matt says again, bolder, a declaration, and Foggy has no doubt that he’s staring at pure light when Matt smiles. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, makes the words he used to replay from his perfect dream life on lonely nights feel like a cheap imitation.

That thing Foggy let slip under his tongue after Matt said he'd wait for him makes it’s way to the surface again, done with biding its time, and nothing— not even Foggy— is going to hold it back now.

Matt kept his promise. He shared Daredevil and all of himself with Foggy. He waited and let Foggy take his time revealing whatever bits of his dream he was comfortable releasing into the space between them. He didn’t leave when there was no longer any room for denial and he knew exactly what, and _who_ he really was in Foggy’s perfect life. Matt _stayed_ , and that’s another promise he’s kept.

It still takes Foggy’s breath away when he thinks about it.

“I love you, Matt. _All_ of you,” Foggy says, happily and proudly because his one day is finally here, with all the carefree happiness he’d let himself imagine having, clinging onto like a stubborn wish, like a dream.

*

Music streams over from the next building.

“What?” Foggy asks, laughing when Matt tilts his head like he’s thinking, lazy smile on his face.

Matt stands first before extending a hand to Foggy. “May I have this dance?”

Foggy gives in and slides an arm around Matt’s waist once he’s up and pressed close, chest to chest. “Nelson and Murdock on the dance floor, huh?” Foggy says. They’re swaying together, slow but light on their feet, and Foggy feels every breath Matt takes. He wishes he could have Matt’s senses just for this moment— to feel everything as deeply as he can, to lose himself in Matt’s heartbeat, Matt’s breath, Matt’s touch. In Matt.

“Epic,” Matt replies, before pressing a kiss to Foggy’s hair.

Foggy looks up then and Matt’s doing that thing with his face like the first time Foggy made him hold a puppy. Soft, smiling, quiet happiness.

Foggy's speechless, but he’s pretty sure he's matching Matt’s smile.

*

Foggy wakes to warmth, sunlight splayed across silk. Matt sighs behind him, soft and contented. He snakes an arm over Foggy’s waist before he nuzzles his neck, a warm puff of air against Foggy’s skin when Foggy says, “Good morning, sunshine.”

Matt beams when Foggy turns around after a while, fingers tracing slow circles on the skin over his hip. Foggy props himself up on one elbow and kisses Matt’s forehead, relishing the way he goes all pliant and tips his head to expose his neck, sleepy smile in tow.

Matt curves a warm palm around Foggy’s cheek and strokes a thumb just below his lip, leans forward until his mouth meets Foggy’s. One moment he kisses coy and saccharine and then he’s nipping playfully in the next, licking into Foggy’s mouth and drawing a moan out of him, a warm hand on his neck right where his pulse is.

“You’re gonna keep me on my toes, aren’t you,” Foggy asks.

Matt simply hums into his skin. Yeah, Foggy could definitely get used to this.

He reaches for Matt, who turns his palm up and laces their fingers together, drinks in every point of contact his skin has with Matt and reckons it’ll be impossible to stop touching him. He doesn’t want to, anyway.

He’s so _happy._

“I love you,” Foggy murmurs, happily and proudly because he can.

Matt echoes it back and then asks, “Breakfast?” eyebrows quirked up in that endearing way— _how is he always so cute??_ when Foggy’s stomach rumbles.

“Later,” Foggy answers, drapes himself over Matt and slings a leg across for good measure because who needs breakfast when he’s got love?

Matt laughs the second time Foggy’s stomach makes it clear exactly how impractical that sounds. So, okay. Breakfast now but they’re definitely spending the rest of the day together. And after that, the rest of their lives, because wherever they’re headed next, it’s nowhere but up.

It’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Trouble by Cage the Elephant, which has the kind of melody that yells MattFoggy to me └໒( ♥ ◡ ♥ )७┘
> 
> Come have zero chill over those avocados with me on [Tumblr](ellicelluella.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
